Thud. Thud. Thud.
Clank.
I am awoken from my sleep by the clamoring of heavy footsteps against creaking hardwood floors. I run my hand through my short scarlet hair in confusion; my girlfriend wasn't meant to return home until the following day, but the footsteps sounded too familiar.
I turn over in bed and slide my cold feet into the black socks lying on my nightstand. I crack my neck slowly and sit at the edge of my mattress, preparing to greet the person in my home.
"Amélia?" I called to the footsteps thudding downstairs. The response is a low pitch groan drowned by the clattering of various kitchen appliances. All that follows is silence.
"Amélia, ¿Qué pasa?" I tip-toed down the stairs, attempting to ignore loud squeaking of wooden stairs that didn't seem nearly as prominent the day before.
When I arrive at the bottom of the stairs, I'm met with a demolished kitchen. The stove door is lying on the tile floor, completely detached from the stove. Metal pots, pans, and trays litter the ground, tiles cracked from the pressure. In the middle of the disaster stands Amélia, with her back facing me. Despite the morning breeze entering the shattered window and flowing her wine-colored dress, her waist-length brown hair remained completely still. She stared down at a running faucet, her breathing visibly labored.
I leaned forward and cautiously tapped her on the shoulder. She responded with stillness and silence, unphased. I tapped again. No response. I tapped once more and a startled gasp escaped her soft rosy lips. She turned to face me and her dark eyes met mine
She had no pupils.
Her entire eye was a one large light brown iris surrounded by vein-filled whiteness. She stared at me unblinkingly and smiled.
"Good Morning," she muttered through gritted teeth. "How did you sleep?"
"Bien. You're here a lot earlier than I expected. ¿Qué pasó?" I interrogated.
"There a minor... issue regarding my arrival," she replied, with a forced grin creeping across her olive skin.
"Interesting. Could you turn that sink off?" I responded, gesturing impatiently to the still-running faucet.
"Oh, Yes. Absolutely. My sincerest apologies." She turned abruptly, and her joints snapped loudly as she did so. She took several small steps towards the faucet with her arm extended towards the handles, her movements alike to an animatronic. As she was approaching the sink, her rapid shuffling feet tripped over one of the pans that littered the tiled floors.
Amélia's body collapsed and slammed against the countertops behind her. Her shadow, however, did not move at all until moments later when it also slammed violently into the cabinets, seeming to lag behind. On impact, the dark figure secreted a slimy gray substance onto its surroundings, leaving a thick outline of where it collided. She quickly snapped her neck to glance at me, and her eyes were rolled into the back of her head until the moment her silhouette realigned to its original location.
"Dude, What the f***," I whispered quietly, slowly backing away from the figure sprawled across the floor. I stared in awe and absolute terror at the disaster lying at my feet. I made contact with her pupil-less eyes. "This is going to take so much f***ing time."
Amélia hissed at me in response and crawled quickly away from me, backing herself into the wall and excreting more gray matter onto the ground beneath her.
"Stop, Amélia. Don't move." The figure hesitated from the harshness of my voice but continued writhing nonetheless, her crimson dress dragging behind her, now ruined by the stains of gray liquid. Her frail body was contorted in a different matter with every small movement made. "Really, I am not mopping this s*** up."
When my requests were ignored, I turned and stormed away impatiently to escape the creature terrorizing my kitchen. I darted to my bedroom and closed the door behind me to hear not only the creaking of the old wooden doors, but a gurgling scream from downstairs. Within seconds of closing the door, I heard the scattering of skiddish footsteps and long fingernails scratching and scraping their way up the stairs.
The creature claws at the door creating a screeching sounds similar to nails on a chalkboard. The clawing turned gradually into a knocking that sounded almost rhythmic.
--- .--. . -.
--- .--. . -.
--- .--. . -.
The low tapping against my door continued until eventually the figured shrieked once more and sliced her long talon-like nails against the door, completely puncturing the door. Straight diagonal lines covered the now-destroyed material.
I pushed myself up off of my mattress slowly, creeping off of the bed and taking small steps towards the commotion. Once I approached the doorframe, I leaned forward and gradually turned the handle, looking down at the girl in my doorway. She was still lying on the ground seemingly disfigured. Both of her knees were bent the opposite way and stained with various hues leaving a timeline of bruises scattered up the entirety of her legs, and caramel colored irises now covered the entirety of her eyeballs. Most of her major joints had a slightly yellow tone to them as if they had been beaten or broken. She tilted her head upwards to meet mine, and I crouched down to her height now able to see the angry red abrasion encircling her neck.
"Have you finished your tantrum yet?"
I received no response. Clearing my throat, I reiterated my prior question in a more demanding tone.
She began to crawl toward me with only her arms, dragging her wounded legs behind her small body. She gargled something in an attempt to communicate, but it was unintelligible.
"Amélia, Detente. Stop." She continued to crawl slowly, inching towards where I was crouched. Her pleading eyes carried the words her fragile body couldn't say. I felt a small tear form in the corner of my eye. "Amélia. Don't do this."
Her crawling became more gradual as she got closer to me. The occasional dripping tear turned into heavy sobs with every movement she made. My crouched position collapsed underneath me, and I fell to the ground, tears running down my face.
Her weak corpse finally reached mine, and she laid her small face on my leg. Her animalistic brown eyes met with mine. She blinked for a moment and stared endlessly. Her body fell loosely onto the cold ground with her head still laying on my knee. I whimpered loudly and traced my finger around the abrasion on her neck.
"I'm sorry," I moaned through gritted teeth, tears flooding.
"I didn't mean to." I grasped her deceased hand in my own and squeezed tightly.
"I'm so sorry."
I lifted her lifeless body off of the bedroom floor once more and carried her carefully down the creaking stairs weeping with every step. When I approached the bottom step, I walked slowly through the cluttered kitchen and down the hallway. Every footstep felt heavier than the last, despite her body being so frail and light.
I turned into the small bedroom, stepping carefully over the various stones, papers, and herbs lying in a thick circle around a bed in the middle. I placed her cold body against the soft blanket covering her bed and immediately fell to the floor.
After minutes of sorrow and loathing, I stood up and unclenched my fists, running my cramped fingers through my hair. I took heavy footsteps towards the door, lighting rows of blown-out candles surrounding the bed.
I walk out the door with feet and heart heavy. I whisper quietly to myself.

"She'll be back again tomorrow."

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

"She'll forgive me tomorrow."